


Reins

by threeplusfire



Series: Bad Things Come In Threes [15]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, M/M, Multi, Pizza, Smoking, Sub Drop, Top Drop, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When things are tense and unsettled from the long winter, Trott finds a way to keep everyone in line. The Garbage Court plays rough when it comes to BDSM but no one knows better than they do the value of aftercare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reins

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my kind friends Dex, Jay, Leon & Eirwyn for giving this the beta read. This was originally sparked by an idea Leon presented about riding boots that he generously dumped in my lap.

After a particularly long night, Smith and Ross crashed in through the door together. Trott came out of the bedroom to watch them prowl around the living room, talking in low voices. Ross was barefoot, wearing only a hoodie and a pair of jeans as he paced. Smith hastily bandaged up a long, shallow cut in his arm, frowning as he wrapped his arm. 

“What the hell have you been doing?” asked Trott, his voice more acerbic than usual. It was early enough that dawn was still a rosy glow on the horizon, just barely illuminating the living room.

“Nothing,” Ross answered, a little too quickly. Trott narrowed his eyes, glaring pointedly at Smith. There was blood all over his shirt, too much to go with the cut on his arm.

“Nothing bleeds a lot,” Trott remarked. 

“I’m fine,” Smith said flippantly. “Don’t worry about it, Trott.”

“Sure.” Trott watched them for a moment, unconvinced. Ross at least looked a little guilty. Trott headed for the kitchen, unwilling to dig further until he had some coffee.

 

* * *

“They’re a bit… something.” Sips rested on his elbows on the kitchen counter, watching Trott carefully cut a slice of bundt cake. It was enormous, covered in sprinkles and smudged icing. Ross had apparently stayed up baking things almost every night this week, judging from the disastrous state of the kitchen and the number of cakes on the counter. Trott wondered what was left in the fridge, if it would just be baked goods when he opened it. 

“I know.” Trott grimaced. It was a little exhausting, watching them run roughshod over everything. Smith’s killing was messy and indiscrete when he was in a mood. Ross was still smarting over his exile from Xephos’ home, and Will’s disappearance into the greenhouse. Their restlessness combined was growing more out of hand each day. It exhausted Trott, just watching them take out their anger on the city.

“You going to do something about it?” Sips asked. He was unshaven, tired and disheveled. 

“You want me to do something about it?” Trott fired back, raising his eyebrows. He licked his fingers clean of icing and crumbs.

“Yeah, I think so.” Sips glanced over his shoulder, where the shouting over the video game was getting louder. “They’re starting to give me a headache.”

“Whatever makes the king happy,” Trott said, giving him a quick smile. He held out the plate. “Cake?”

“Breakfast cake?” asked Sips dubiously.

“Or we can go down to the diner,” Trott offered. 

“Please,” Sips sighed. “I just want to eat some eggs and bacon in peace.”

Trott nodded, and glanced into the living room. Smith and Ross were busy shoving each other and trying to win some racing game. He stared, lost in thought, until Sips tossed his jacket at him.

* * *

Trott looked at himself in the full length mirror, and decided he was pleased. The boots rose to his knees, the black leather gleaming. He tugged the zipper up the back of his calf. They were snug, clinging to his legs like a second skin. 

“Those are new.” Ross peered around Trott’s shoulder. His tail swung back and forth, catching the handle of one of the empty shopping bags.

Trott straightened, looking at his reflection. He smoothed a hand over his hip and the form fitting riding pants. He’d only half tucked in the plain dress shirt and it hung down on the right side. 

“You’re going to do something to Smith, aren’t you?” Ross grinned. He batted at the shopping bags.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you always dress up when you do something to him.”

Trott paused, looking at their reflections in the mirror.

“Hmmm.” He turned back to Ross. “Should I dress up for you too?”

Ross shrugged. Trott pulled on one glove, a dark reddish color that was nearly black. He reached up and patted Ross’ cheek very gently. Ross flinched and hissed.

“What was-” 

Trott turned his hand over. The fingers were barbed, slender metal points embedded in the leather.

“It’s just a little bit of iron mixed with copper and something else.” Trott flexed his hand. He could almost feel it through the leather, a tingling itch.

“Stings,” Ross said. “That would probably hurt if you didn’t move.”

“Tell me about it,” Trott commanded, in his quiet and serious voice. Carefully he stroked his fingers down Ross’ cheek to the hollows of his collar bones. Ross held himself still this time, eyes on Trott.

“It’s warm,” Ross whispered. “Like something electric, but it burns like fuck.” He pressed his lips together when Trott left his hand on Ross’ bare chest. He watched Ross’ face, then looked with some curiosity at the marks it left on Ross’ skin. They were dark blotches, spreading around his fingertips. 

“Well, that’s something I haven’t seen before.” Trott took his hand away, watching the welts fade slowly. Ross breathed out. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Ross nodded. He leaned his head into Trott’s bare hand, something yearning in his expression. Trott stroked him, letting Ross nuzzle against him. Carefully Trott peeled the glove off and tossed it onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Ross. They swayed together, in the late afternoon sunlight coming through the bedroom windows. 

“You want to help me clear up the living room so I can do something to Smith?”

“Sure.” Ross bit playfully at Trott’s ear, and Trott shoved him away with a laugh. 

 

* * *

Smith let the door slam behind him and was halfway across the living room before he noticed the difference. He slowed, looking around. The couch was pushed back towards the far wall, and someone had removed the coffee table. It was clean too, not a single wrapper or cup in sight. Sips was sitting in the nice recliner, reading a stack of papers. Trott stood next to him, and Smith blatantly looked him up and down.

“Well then,” Smith grinned, just a shade away from a snarl. “Bring on the jokes, funny man.”

“What jokes?” Trott asked, glancing over. His trousers were skintight, and he had on a plain dress shirt. 

“Nice riding boots,” Smith said with a pointed glance. “Did you buy yourself a stable today?” He peeled off his jacket and tossed it towards the sofa. Sauntering towards Trott, he flashed a cocky grin.

“Why would I need that when I’ve got you around?” Trott folded his arms, the fabric of the shirt pulling taut.

“Are you looking for a ride?” Smith leered.

“I thought we could play,” Trott answered. He grinned, cocking one hip out and putting a booted foot up on the edge of Sips’ chair. It emphasized how form-fitting the jodhpurs were, the cream colored fabric velvety soft.

“What do you want to play, Trotty?” Smith’s eyes were bright, and he licked his lips as Trott approached him. He stared openly, savoring the sight of Trott.

“You’re a menace, sunshine, an untamed, unbridled menace.” Trott stopped a few feet away, arms folded across his chest. The cuffs were rolled up in his habitual manner, the shirt a crisp white that was clearly brand new. The top few buttons were undone, leaving a V of exposed skin where Smith could see the line of his collarbone.

“You like it that way,” Smith countered. He eyed Trott hungrily.

“Someone ought to rein you in a bit,” Trott laughed. Smith snorted at the joke.

Ross came out of the hall, carrying Trott’s messenger bag. He only wore a faded pair of jeans, the knees ripped and the edges frayed. 

“You are so in for it,” he muttered under his breath as he hip checked Smith in passing. Smith raised his eyebrows. Ross dropped the bag on the kitchen bar, and settled himself by Sips’ chair with anticipation. His tail curled over his bare feet.

“What do I get out of your little fetish game?” Smith lifted his chin, staring at Trott. 

“You like it when we play rough.”

“Not nearly as much as you do, you filthy bastard.” Smith considered him for a moment. “I want something.”

“What?” Trott narrowed his eyes.

“A month off work.”

“A month?” Trott laughed loudly. “A week.”

“Three weeks,” Smith countered, a smug look on his face.

“Are you really trading sexual favors to get time off work?” asked Sips. “Pretty sure that’s all kinds of illegal.” He looked amused, a half smile on his face. 

“You going to report me?” Smith looked at him and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “You don’t even show up, mate. Maybe I’d be offering to fuck you if you did.”

“You’d fuck me anyways, Smiffy.” Sips waved his hand dismissively and leaned back in his chair. Ross laughed from his spot, arms around his knees.

“Fine, two weeks,” Trott interrupted. “Two weeks for good behavior.”

“Deal,” Smith said with satisfaction. “Fuck your goddamn delivery job.” He peeled his shirt over his head in one quick motion, and kicked off his boots. Jingling his keys in one hand, he unzipped his jeans and slid them down. Sips and Ross watched with appreciation as he kicked them towards his boots. Smith stalked forward with boundless pride, all long legs and bright auburn hair.

“So let’s play,” he rumbled, his voice low. He pressed his hand flat against Trott’s chest, his keys between them. The moment was thick with a new tension as they stood only a few inches apart. Without breaking eye contact, Trott lifted his hand and placed it over Smith’s. Slowly, he eased the keys free. Something flashed in Smith’s eyes. Trott turned away, and set them carefully on the kitchen bar. 

“Let’s play the hard way,” Trott suggested, mischief in his voice. “Nothing making you do it but yourself.”

Smith reached forward, and cupped the back of Trott’s head. They kissed, a long, deep kiss. Smith’s fingers wove themselves into Trott’s hair. 

“Fine,” Smith gasped, pulling back. “Let’s do this.” Trott stepped back to pull something out of his bag with a crinkle of plastic.

“You remember these,” Trott said,  unwrapping a lollipop. 

“You’d better have that fucking lube,” Smith growled. Trott picked up a silver foil packet and smirked.

“What do you say, sunshine? Want to make it extra hard?”

“Too hard for you to handle,” Smith shot back, leaning forward. He kept his eyes on Trott the entire time, making a lascivious show of taking the candy into his mouth. 

“Got some new flavors, and I know how much you liked the last ones.” Trott rummaged through the bag on the counter with one hand.

“Pineapple,” Smith chuckled around the lollipop. “Classy.” Smith rolled his tongue around it, wanting the smooth sweetness to go on forever. They did actually taste pretty good. The yearning started to build, in his throat and in the pit of his stomach. In his chair, Sips quietly folded away the paper, and stared at him. Smith winked, delighted by the slightest twitch of Sips’ lips into a smile. Beside him, Ross settled down on the floor.

“Only the best things for you, sunshine.” Pulling on his gloves, Trott stared as Smith rolled the lollipop from side to side. He brushed the back of his hand down Smith’s chest, watching his pupils widen by tiny degrees.

“I guess it’s working,” he commented, brushing his knuckles over Smith’s half hard cock.

“Certainly not your natural charm, mate.” Smith grinned, feral and flushed. He crunched down on the candy, feeling it stick in his teeth. He pushed his tongue against the sticky bits, the fruity sweetness tingling in his mouth.

“Such a mouth on you.” Trott patted his cheek, and Smith swore at the sting. 

“What the fuck was that?” Smith twisted, trying to step back from Trott. But Trott closed the distance between them, not letting him get far. He took the paper stick away from Smith, tossed it on the counter. 

“On your knees for me, come on.” Trott shifted around behind him, one hand light on Smith’s shoulder. Sips and Ross watched him lower himself to his knees with a little toss of his head. Trott planted his boots on either side of Smith’s knees, and Smith leaned back into him. The warmth of Trott’s legs, the sensation of them caging him in felt good, like the ache in his stomach. Smith rubbed his head against Trott’s thigh, dragging his face over the velvety fabric.

“Going to be good for me, sunshine?” Trott whispered. 

“You don’t want me to be good for you,” Smith replied with a lazy smile. “You want me to fight you.”

“I want to watch you try to make yourself be good,” countered Trott. “Because frankly Smith, you’re terrible at it.”

“You don’t think I can?”

“Show me then,” Trott goaded him. He hissed the most derogatory term for kelpies he knew in his native tongue, saw the spark of recognition in Smith’s eyes at the insult. It was one of the first things he ever said to Smith, and Trott grinned.

“Fuck you,” Smith growled, his mouth twitching towards a matching grin.

“This is going to sting more,” Trott said as he picked the bridle up off the counter. The buckles clinked, scraping along the bar.

The bit was metal, and Ross stared at it. His stomach flipped, that unsettling sensation of desire mixed with dread that Trott could make him feel so easily. It was certainly the same painful stuff, the mix of iron and other metals Trott had explained while they picked up the living room. It shouldn’t be enough to seriously hurt Smith, but it would hurt. Ross smoothed his hands nervously over his knees.

“Seriously?” Smith stared, defiance flaring in his eyes.

“Humor me, sunshine.” Trott stroked his cheek again. This time Smith didn’t flinch as he watched Trott. He just opened his mouth, and nipped at Trott’s hand. Pleased, Trott fastened the bridle and made sure the bit was snug in his mouth. Smith’s eyes widened as the metal stung his tongue, the taste cutting into the sweetness left over from the lollipop. 

“Only a tiny bit of iron in it,” Trott soothed as he tightened the buckles that held the leather straps around Smith’s head. “You can handle it.” Smith grunted, his eyes flickering shades of green. Ross mouthed the words “I know” silently, staring at Smith. They shared a silent moment of commiseration about Trott’s taste in painful fun.

Trott stroked Smith’s hair back, and felt Smith shift heavily into his legs. 

“You,” Trott murmured. “You and Ross have been wild lately. Too reckless, too careless, too angry.” His voice was deep and just a hair away from threatening. Smith felt the hair on the backs of his arms rise, a little shiver running down his spine.

Beside Sips, Ross hunched his shoulders a little at the tone of Trott’s voice. Sips patted him reassuringly, and Ross scooted closer. His tail wound around Sips’ ankle. Ross was briefly glad the focus of Trott’s attention was entirely Smith right now. 

Trott pulled Smith’s head back by the straps of the bridle. The fingers of his other hand raised red streaks up Smith’s throat, barely touching him. Smith whined around the bit and closed his eyes.

Slowly, Trott pushed him forward until Smith’s face was pressed to the carpet. Trott let go, watching Smith stay on his knees. He walked around in him a circle, and reached down to run one gloved hand over the curve of Smith’s hip. 

“I’m tempted to make you kiss my boots,” Trott said, amusement in his voice. He picked up the riding crop from the counter, running a hand down the length of it. It flexed easily in his hands.

“But that’s not really you, is it?” Trott stood directly in front of Smith, his boots inches from Smith’s head. He stroked the tip of the crop down the center of Smith’s back. The light touch, combined with the aching need of the enchantment, made Smith dig his fingers into the carpet and shiver. 

“Hands on the back of your neck,” demanded Trott. He picked up a pair of cuffs from his bag. Smith reluctantly moved to comply, lacing his fingers together. The touch of leather made him jump, and he almost pulled away as Trott fastened the wide leather cuffs around his wrists. They were connected with a few links of chain. Smith groaned, his curse muffled behind the bit. Across the backs of his hands, the chain itched with the tingle of iron.

“So I think I’ll just beat some of this stubborn madness out of you.” Trott tapped the crop along Smith’s arm, tracing the muscles there.

Smith continued to curse, the words indistinct and slurred. Above him, Trott swung the crop in lazy circles before bringing it down on Smith’s back with a snap. Smith yelped, jerking back.

“Hold still for me,” Trott said quietly. He crouched down and ran a hand down Smith’s back, a quick touch with the back of his hand. Flicking the crop against Smith’s skin to accustom him to the sound it made, Trott straightened back up. The leather of his boots creaked as he moved, still stiff and new. 

The crop laid sharp, stinging lines in his skin. Smith breathed through his nose, pressing his forehead hard against the floor. His fingers clenched together, and he struggled to keep his hands on the back of his neck. Each blow pulled him up, arching his back or setting the muscles in his thighs to trembling. He burned, the red lines rising across his back and legs. It mixed with the desire humming through him from the candy, a stomach twisting bloom of pleasure and pain that made him shout against the bit. It was only his pride, his unwillingness to back down from a challenge that kept Smith there now. Smith dug his knees and elbows into the floor, fighting the urge to bolt. Trott’s boot rested on his shoulder, an almost welcome anchor for him. The blows came down, unrelenting and steady. The sound of the crop striking flesh seemed loud, in the quiet of the living room.

There was a little pause, when Trott tipped his head back and let his arm rest. Smith whimpered, rubbing his face against the carpet. Trott lifted his boot, pacing around Smith. He dragged the tip of the crop along his back. 

“Shit, Trott.” Sips let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His fingers were clenched on the arm of the chair. Whatever he’d expected Trott to do, this was more intense than he anticipated. Sips felt Ross shiver beside him and reached out to rub his fingers along the back of Ross’ neck. With his other hand, he unfastened his jeans.

Trott didn’t look away from Smith, but he smiled at the comment. He crouched, rubbed a hand down Smith’s leg. Smith whined at the sting of the barbed gloves. Even so, he arched into the touch. Smith yelped at the hand on the inside of his thigh, gently pushing his legs apart. The smooth leather brushing against his balls sent a flutter of arousal through his stomach. Gritting his teeth against the bit in his mouth, Smith struggled to keep himself in check. It was even harder now, with the pain dulling. Arousal made him whine at the fleeting touches. He just wanted to sink into the floor and get off.

“There’s nothing in this city as reckless as you are, Smith.” Trott’s voice was husky and quiet as he carefully arranged Smith to his liking. He pressed his lips to the small of Smith’s back, just above one of the fine, red welts. 

Smith groaned, and tried to hold himself in check. The enchantment from the candy was burning through him, sinking through the pain and frustration of Trott’s teasing. His cock ached for Trott’s hand, or any touch at all. 

The next blows were not softer, but they came slower. Each time, Smith tensed and then tried to will himself to relax. It was almost impossible, not knowing where they would land next. The crop flicked over his thighs, cutting into the soft skin on the inside of his leg, and Smith screamed a little. His hands lifted, fists clenching. Trott watched, his dark eyes thoughtful as Smith struggled to keep himself in place.

“That’s it, sunshine.” He encouraged Smith with a careful stroke along his cock, feeling him jerk towards his hand. “You’re doing so well, time for a little reward.” 

He opened up the ordinary lube and yanked off the gloves. Pouring some over his left hand, he rubbed his fingers together to coat them in the glistening stuff. The first touch of his fingers, spreading Smith’s cheeks and circling made Smith groan. He arched his back, forehead pressed against the carpet hard enough to imprint the pattern of the fibers on his forehead.

“Easy,” Trott murmured as he rubbed against Smith’s hole. He dripped more lube onto his fingers and put them back, pressing against the tight muscle. Smith made quieter, needy sounds as he pushed his hips back into Trott’s touch. Slipping a finger inside him, Trott used his other hand to squeeze Smith’s cock.

Smith moaned against, legs slipping further apart as he rocked himself on Trott’s fingers, feeling them curl slightly inside him in a way that made him want more. He braced his hands on the carpet, arching up and into the pressure. Each time Trott spread his fingers just slightly apart, Smith hissed. Shivering with the pleasure and the peculiar discomfort of being entered, Smith begged wordlessly for more. Trott’s hand on his cock was only ratcheting up his arousal, and he was frustratingly far from the peak. When Trott pulled out, Smith gasped and clenched his mouth around the bit. Pain flared in him, and he moaned deep in his throat.

Trott wiped his hands on a towel from his bag, and pulled out a length of leather strap. He clipped the reins to Smith’s bridle. With a little smile, he tugged.

“Come on, Smith.” Trott couldn’t help the grin, especially when Smith finally tracked on what was taking place. The hazy blur of arousal left him and his eyes flashed a murderous green. Stubbornly, he resisted. Trott yanked hard, pulling him off balance. 

“Move, Smith,” Trott demanded. He pulled the reluctant kelpie over to Sips’ chair, forcing Smith to stumble forward on his knees. Ross slid back out of the way, sensing Trott’s next play. 

“How do you want him?” asked Trott, looking at Sips. Sips paused the hand lazily pulling on his own cock. With a long, considering look, Sips took in Smith kneeling there with his hands bound. He rose just enough to slide his jeans and boxers down so they puddled around his ankles. 

“Get up here, Smiffy.” Sips settled back in his chair and patted one thigh. A smirk tugged at his lips as Trott wrapped the reins around his fist, and pulled Smith up when he was slow to move.

“You’ve been a nuisance lately,” Sips continued in his casual conversational tone as Smith straddled his lap, knees wedged between Sips and the padded arms of his chair. Trott tossed him the bottle of lube, and Sips squeezed some out into his palm before tossing it back. 

“Mmmm,” Smith hummed at him, rolling his eyes. 

“But really what I’m learning today is that I’m going to start gagging you on movie nights so you can’t fucking interrupt every five minutes.” Sips chuckled at the outraged look on Smith’s face, the amusement in Trott’s eyes. Smith growled from behind the gag, until Trott gave the reins a sharp jerk. Reaching around to Smith’s front, Trott took his bound wrists and lifted them so his hands were behind his head again.

Sips closed his hand over the head of Smith’s cock, watching him suck in a breath. He whined at Sips’ slow touch, his thumb rubbing the underside of the head. With his other hand, Sips stroked his own cock as he adjusted himself beneath Smith. Trott splayed his fingers in the center of Smith’s back and pushed him forward slowly. 

The bit stung but Smith couldn’t help himself from tightening his mouth around it when Sips entered him. Even with Trott’s preparations, it still burned when Sips pushed inside. Smith couldn’t help but tense around Sips’ cock. Dimly, he registered Sips’ voice in his ear as he eased Smith down into his lap. Both his hands were on Smith’s hips now, firm and warm as they moved him. Smith closed his eyes, a soft sound escaping him. His arms ached already behind his head. Trott’s hand was still on his back, rubbing in circles as he rode Sips’ cock. 

“Come on Smiffy, don’t make me do all the work.” Sips pulled him down hard, and Smith’s eyes snapped open. Sips grinned at him, his breath coming faster as Smith moved his hips. 

“You only get two weeks if you’re good,” Trott reminded him. He looped the reins around his hand and gripped Smith’s wrist.

“There you go,” Sips breathed out as he watched Smith. His hands slid up and down Smith’s sides, reaching up to tweak his nipples. Sips liked the way Smith made furious little sounds, wordless incoherent protests against the teasing touches. 

Smith snorted, and let his tongue curl up against the bit. The taste of metal in his mouth mixed with the lingering sugary reminders of the candy stuck in his teeth. He rolled his hips hard against Sips. Sweat prickled at his hairline, behind his knees and down his back. Lifting himself, Smith built a steady rhythm to his movements. His eyelids drooped, pleasure overwhelming the remaining sting of the welts on his back and legs. 

Ross knelt up, forearms braced on the arm of the recliner. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch Smith. Sips’ breath came faster, and the slap of skin on skin was louder. Sips curled his hand around Smith’s cock again.

“Not going to come for me, Smiffy?” Sips teased. “No? You don’t mind if I just go ahead then?” He laughed breathlessly as Smith uttered wrathful noises. Sips grabbed his hips again and thrust up, panting.

“Fuck, come on, that’s it, fuck yes,” Sips groaned, his hands slipping on Smith’s skin. He squeezed Smith’s ass and pushed up into him. With a wordless groan, he came. Smith echoed him, letting his head hang forward and his movements slow. The reins pulled taut in Trott’s hand as Smith panted and gasped. He helped Smith up off Sips’ lap, rubbing his own erection against Smith as they stood there. 

“I’d give you at least a week off for that,” Sips cracked, pulling his jeans back up with a contented sigh. He gave Smith a thumbs up as he relaxed back into the recliner. Trott rolled his eyes, and kissed Smith’s shoulder. 

“Over here, Ross.” Trott gestured to the empty space in front of them. Ross swallowed, and shuffled forward so he was kneeling more in the center of the living room. Trott tugged on the reins and towed Smith along with him. He was less recalcitrant now, following Trott’s lead. 

“Jeans off, sunshine,” Trott said quietly. He tossed Ross the bottle of lube from the counter. Smith whined, letting his arms hang down to ease the strain. He watched Ross touch himself. Beside him, Trott played with the packet of lube that went with the lollipop, the silver wrapper reflecting the light. He caught Smith staring and raised his eyebrows.

“Not yet,” Trott said, amusement tugging his lips up at the corner. Smith hissed. He was still achingly hard, and he could feel the wetness on the inside of his thigh. He hoped that it was mostly lube. 

“Trott?” asked Ross. His fingers slid over the length of his cock, shiny and slick. 

“On your knees for me,” Trott said. He guided Smith over to him and pushed him down so they were facing each other. 

“I want you to fuck yourself on his pretty glass dick,” Trott said, slapping the reins against his shoulders. Smith whimpered, shuddering. “Down you go.”

Ross glanced up at Trott, a question in his gaze. When Trott nodded, Ross reached out for Smith’s arms. His hands twisted in their leather cuffs, the links between them jingling, and he hooked his arms around Ross’ neck. Pulling him closer, Ross lifted him just enough to get Smith on his lap. His cock bumped against Smith, and they both moaned at the same time.

Carefully, Ross positioned his cock beneath Smith. Rubbing against his length, Smith leaned hard into him. With one hand in Smith’s hair, Ross kissed him on the mouth. He licked at Smith’s lips, the bit giving him a little electric shock. Smith moaned into him, his hands on the back of Ross’ neck. The prickly touch of the chain at the base of his neck made Ross shiver.

Smith’s thighs trembled where they slid along Ross’ legs, and Smith moved to press himself flush against Ross. He rubbed his cock against Ross’ stomach with frantic little whimpers until Trott pulled on the bridle to drag him back.

“Get on, sunshine.” Trott’s voice was rough, and Ross could see him palming his own erection through his trousers behind Smith. Sips was leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he watched. He gave Ross a thumbs up and a quick smile.

“Here,” Ross whispered. He slipped a hand under Smith’s thigh, lifting him up just enough to press his cock into Smith. Smith’s broken off gasp caused Ross to close his eyes. Smith like this was almost too much, the way he was so dazed and frantic at the same time. The quiet, almost inaudible whines, the flush in his skin and the red marks lingering on his legs, the way his eyes were unfocused and wide. He looked so desperate, so vulnerable and overwhelmed. It made Ross ache. 

Smith leaned forward to press his face against Ross’ shoulder as he slowly slid down until he was settled in his lap. Ross’ breath stirred the hair at the nape of his neck. He hiccuped, soft quick noises as his fingers scrabbled at the back of Ross’ neck. He breathed out, and a shudder went through him.  

“Stay still, Ross.” Trott stroked his cheek. “Move, Smith.” He flicked the crop against his back, just a little sting to get him moving again. 

Arousal clouded Smith’s mind. He couldn’t stop the noises, formless sounds as he rolled his hips down, rocking on Ross’ cock. He felt cool inside Smith, the ridges of him catching sensitive skin. Smith tried to press himself further down, the brief pain barely registering over the steady pulse of desire. The crop flicked against his thighs when he stopped moving, spurring him to raise himself up, shakily moving again.

Ross kept his hands light on Smith’s hips as Smith leaned back. The chain of his cuffs ground into the back of Ross’ neck, stinging. 

Trott ran the tip of the crop along the line of Smith’s shoulders. From time to time, he’d twitch it just enough to get Smith to groan more noisily. He could see the little tremors in Smith’s legs as he pushed himself onto Ross’ cock. Beneath him, Ross was completely still. 

Smith could feel himself on the edge, and unable to get over it to release. He hissed, glad for the bit only because it kept him from begging. He wanted to beg now. Fucking Sips had felt good, bringing him up to this fevered point. Fucking Ross now felt amazing, even though it was torture. He whined, licking at the hot metal in his mouth, and tried to keep up his rhythm. 

“Trott,” Ross said, his voice thick. His tail was uncharacteristically motionless, and the urge to drag it across the floor was unbearable. In his lap, Smith’s movements slowed just a fraction. Ross wanted to raise a hand and stroke his face. But Trott had asked him to be still. He looked up at Trott, pleading with his eyes.

“What do you want, sunshine?” he asked, looking at Ross. His eyes were dark, and Ross could feel himself sinking in them. He stroked Ross’ hair, fingers rubbing over his horns.

“Please, just let me…” Ross tightened his hands on Smith’s hips, and bit Smith’s shoulder. Smith groaned, eyes fluttering closed. Trott tugged at his hair as Smith shifted his hips.

“Too slow for you?” Trott looked amused by the edge in Ross’ voice. “Alright.”

Ross looked up from where he was tracing his tongue over the teeth marks on Smith’s shoulder.

“Fuck him then,” Trott continued, letting the reins slacken. He touched the tips of Ross’ horns before he stepped back with a little smile of anticipation. 

Ross dragged Smith into another kiss, biting his lip, and then slid his hands under Smith’s legs. With a shove, he put Smith on his back on the floor. Smith wheezed, breathless. The sudden movement caught him by surprise. Then Ross was on him, Smith’s legs still hooked over his arms to bend him nearly double. When Ross thrust into him, Smith shouted at the suddenness and the pleasure of it. Ross pinned him to the floor, taking him with hard, quick movements. His tail whipped behind him as Ross fucked Smith into the floor with single-minded intensity.

“Goddamn,” Sips said, his voice impressed. Trott laughed softly as he set the crop down. He fingered the silver packet of lube in his pocket, uncomfortably hard. His own torment was just another part of the show, and Trott resisted the urge to stroke himself as he watched. Instead he pulled slightly at the reins. 

Smith continued to cry out, his voice high and loud over the sound of Ross fucking him, the slap of stone and skin. His hands were stretched over his head, fingers curled into his palms. Smith rolled his head to the side, pressing his face into his arm as he begged wordlessly. Above him Ross planted one hand on the floor beside Smith. 

“Smith, oh Smith,” Ross moaned, his voice wavering as he drove himself into Smith again and again. His orgasm rippled through him, a rush that left him dizzy. He curled forward over Smith, going still except for his tail, still twitching behind him with the lingering swirl of magic and pleasure.

Beneath him, Smith closed his eyes and whimpered. The enchantment in his blood surged as Ross’ magic poured into him, leaving him reeling. He was so close, painfully close and he just couldn’t get there. Smith rolled his head to the side, barely registering anything but the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the feel of the carpet under his back. The bit pulled hard at his mouth, reminding him that he wasn’t in control of anything.

“Still with us, Smith?” Trott’s voice was suddenly close to his ear. Crouching, he helped Smith sit up, and braced him against the warm bulk of Ross. “Hold him up for me Ross, that’s it.”

Ross put his cheek against Smith’s, arms wrapped around him. Trott handed him the packet of lube that would release the enchantment keeping Smith on edge.

“You’re doing so well, sunshine,” Trott soothed. “You’re almost done.” He unfastened his trousers, pulling his cock free with a happy sigh. Stroking himself, Trott was certain it wouldn’t take much now.

Smith looked up at him, his expression dazed. He was pliant and easy under Trott’s hands as he unfastened the bridle and dropped it on the floor. Smith whimpered, running his tongue over his lips. The corners of his mouth were red, the skin almost peeling from the prolonged contact with the iron alloy. 

“Just this one last thing,” murmured Trott as he guided Smith’s mouth to his cock. The eager press of Smith’s lips made Trott groan. Held up in Ross’ lap, Smith leaned forward to take Trott into his mouth. Trott hissed his pleasure, fingers resting on the back of Smith’s head.

“Now, Ross.” Trott tangled his fingers into Smith’s hair, urging him further. He heard the rip of the foil, and felt more than saw the moment Ross started to stroke Smith’s cock. Smith jerked, and moaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through them. 

Smith bucked his hips against Ross’ steady hand, as the enchantment unwound its stranglehold on him. He sucked hard at Trott’s cock, teeth pressing just behind his lips. Pleasure surged through him, setting off a trembling so hard that he would have sunk to the floor if Ross wasn’t holding him up with an arm around his chest. Ross’ hand squeezed the tip of his cock, then slid back down to circle the base. 

“Smith,” Trott panted. He let Smith pull back just enough to make swallowing easier before he came, getting off with a short, sharp cry. 

“Come for us, Smith,” Ross murmured as he jerked him off. He twisted his hand, rubbing the tips of his fingers along the underside of Smith’s cock. He flicked his gaze from Trott’s breathless climax to the overwhelming need on Smith’s face.

The taste of Trott, salt and bitterness so familiar, tipped him over the edge. Smith moaned as he came, spilling himself hot and sticky into Ross’ hand. Smith choked a little, Trott’s cock pushing into his mouth one more time before it was over. He sagged into Ross’ grip, exhausted and barely able to hold his head up anymore.

“There you are, sunshine.” Trott stroked his face, and stepped back to put himself back together. “I’ve got him Ross, grab that towel will you?” But Sips was already up, handing it over with Ross’ quiet thanks. Trott eased down, pulling Smith against him. He fumbled with cuffs on Smith’s wrist, pulling them free. Meanwhile, Ross tried to clean up the mess of lube and semen on both of them. He frowned a little, realizing Sips had given him one of the kitchen towels. 

“Sips, I use these on the dishes,” he muttered.

“It’ll wash out fine,” Sips said, waving his hand dismissively as he walked back into the kitchen. Ross wrinkled his nose, and went back to wiping off his hands.

“Alright?” Trott asked, stroking Smith’s hair. 

“Mmm,” Smith hummed. The corners of his mouth were red and raw. Trott kissed him carefully. Smith blinked, licking his lips.

“I’d murder someone for a drink,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Here you go, Smiffy.” Sips held out a giant plastic cup, full of ice cubes and water. Trott took it, not trusting Smith not to drop the thing all over the both of them. Sips stood there, watching them with an unreadable expression. 

“I fucking ache everywhere,” Smith finally said, reaching for the cup. He sucked at the straw greedily.

“We can put the sofa back,” Trott said, still holding the cup with one hand. Ross nodded, and levered himself to his feet.

“I’ll order some pizza,” Sips said. He stood there, watching Smith sag into Trott. He felt a bit exhausted himself, just from the intensity of watching them go at each other. Playing Smith was fun, winding him up and goading him into action. But Sips wasn’t sure he could do something like this, something that would leave him so wrecked and oddly vulnerable. It wasn’t that Trott was really that much stronger. Sips was pretty sure Smith could have snapped the chain holding those cuffs if he really wanted to do it. Trott hadn’t even held on to his keys. 

Sometimes Sips sort of forgot how strange his life was now, until something happened to remind him. Pizza was normal, he thought. He patted his pocket, which was empty. Sips searched for his phone on the kitchen counter, thinking about pizza toppings and whether anyone was hungry.

 

* * *

It did feel mostly normal an hour later, with the living room back to its usual arrangement. The television had on some show on how things were made, which seemed to involve a lot of conveyor belts and factories. They were all piled on the floor in front of the sofa, with Smith sandwiched between Ross and Trott. Sips leaned against the sofa on the other side of Trott, finishing off a breadstick. It felt so much quieter than usual, subdued and without the usual constant chatter.  

Sips glanced over, and blinked a few times. He even leaned forward to pick up another napkin, just to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light. Settling back against the sofa, Sips leaned his head close to Trott.

“Is he okay?” he asked in a quiet voice as the television droned on about chocolate bars full of potato chip crumbs. Stroking Smith’s hair with one hand, Trott nodded.

“He just needs to come down from it a bit,” Trott replied. He looked at Smith, his head tucked into Trott’s chest. He could feel Smith’s breath, hot and steady. His shirt was damp, which meant Smith was crying silently. Trott kissed his head and squeezed Smith’s shoulder. 

“It takes everyone a little differently,” continued Trott. 

“What about you?” Sips looked at Trott, a measuring stare. Trott met his eyes, and almost brushed away the question. But he hesitated, drawn in by the frank curiosity in Sips’ face. 

“Help me pick up all these pizza boxes, yeah?” he asked. “Ross, will you?” Without speaking, Ross gathered Smith to his chest. He wrapped his tail around Smith as well, pulling him into his lap. Trott patted them both, and tucked a blanket around the two of them. He said something, his voice too low for Sips to quite make out. Ross nodded. Trott’s hand lingered on his head, ruffling through his hair. Ross nuzzled him, turning his face up so Trott could lean over and kiss him.

Sips gathered up the remains of their meal, carrying the empty boxes into the kitchen to pile up by the trash can. Trott dumped the empty soda bottles, and straightened up with a long sigh. 

“This can’t be the first time you’ve seen him like this,” Trott mused. He put both hands to the small of his back and stretched.

“Maybe?” Sips shrugged. “I know it happens, I just don’t think I see much of it.” He thought about that, wondering if maybe he just wasn’t paying enough attention.  Trott nodded. 

“We probably should have talked about it sooner, I suppose.”

He gestured for Sips to grab some clean glasses, and he pulled a bottle of bourbon out of the pantry. They settled at the kitchen table. Trott glanced into the living room, checking on the others before he sat down.

“It’s intense, you know?” he started. “Keys up your emotions, makes you a little thin skinned after.” Sips nodded, sliding a glass across the table to Trott. He kind of understood, at least enough to know he didn’t really understand some parts of them. People did this kind of thing, but it felt different here. Not that he’d seen many people do anything this kinky outside of porn.

“Everyone comes down a little different from it,” Trott said. “Smith, he’ll bounce back after he’s had about twelve hours of sleep and some food in him. It burns right through him, quick as lightning.”

Sips sat back in his chair as Trott poured out bourbon, a hefty measure for each of them.

“How often do you two do that?” Sips lifted his glass, watching Trott.

“Not very,” he said, a wry smile pulling at his mouth. “Maybe not enough, I don’t know. They do probably need it more than I give it to them.”

“Ross too?” Sips asked, curiously. 

“Ross especially,” Trott replied. “He needs it more, I think. You know how he is. Tell him he’s good, and he gets that look on his face. It’s a reassurance, for him.”

“He does,” Sips agreed. Ross was the sort who would follow you down to hell if you just patted him on the head. Sips swallowed his bourbon, savoring the burn in the back of his throat. “What the fuck was all that business about work?”

“Kelpies,” Trott said slowly. “There’s a lot of nasty stories about kelpies who get taken unawares and someone steals their bridle. Usually the person who does that puts them to work.”

“Guess there’s a lot to be said for having someone like that to do your heavy lifting,” Sips said. “But that probably doesn’t end well, does it?”

“Fastest way to piss off a kelpie is to make him do something he doesn’t want to do,” Trott agreed. 

“Why’s he even working then?”

Trott looked away, something thoughtful in his expression.

“Because I had his keys, and I made him, initially.” Trott sipped at his bourbon. “He won’t stick with it long, now that he’s got them back. Better just to get him when we really need it now.”

Sips nodded. He watched Trott lean on his elbows, his glass cradled in both hands. In the dim light, he looked worn out. Sips looked up at the fixture in the ceiling, thinking that most of the bulbs were probably burned out by now.

“So, how do you come down from this?” he asked finally, when Trott’s silence stretched on too long. Trott blinked, coming back to himself and the conversation.

“I’ll probably take a day or two off, keep an eye on them both.” Trott shrugged. “Long bath, a book maybe. I just need some time to remember…” He stopped himself.

“Remember what?”

“That I’m not- not exactly what I was born to be, let’s say.” Trott grimaced.

“Living up to family expectations can be hard.” Sips looked at him with a new understanding, recognizing the expression of someone with a big family and heavy expectations.

“Yeah,” Trott agreed. “A real fucking nightmare, honestly.” He clinked his glass against Sips’ and they both drank to the ghosts of their families.

“They seem settled,” said Sips. “So what do you want to do?”

“This,” Trott smiled. “Just this, right now.” They drank again, and Trott poured more bourbon into their glasses.

“I’m glad the answer does not involve crying,” Sips said with some relief. Trott laughed, a sharp sound.

“You and me both,” agreed Trott. He turned sideways in his chair to stretch his legs out, letting his feet turn out to either side. “I actually really like these boots.”

“You look good,” Sips nodded. “Wear those more often. Might help keep pony boy in line.”

Trott looked at him with a slightly incredulous expression, and they both started laughing. 

 

* * *

They stood by the sofa, Sips’ arm around Trott’s shoulders. Smith and Ross were asleep, tangled up in each other and their nest of couch cushions and blankets. Ross’ tail was curled around Smith’s back. The television was in late night reruns, turned down low. 

“We should get them up,” Trott sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Leave them there.” Sips yawned. “They’ll be fine, you know Ross won’t get up until Smith wakes up anyway.”

Trott looked as if he might argue, but his exhaustion won before he could summon up an argument. Sips pulled him along to the bedroom, and they tumbled into bed while still pulling off their clothes. Trott sat up to pull off his boots, sliding down the zippers with a little groan of relief. They thumped to the floor beside the bed, and Trott peeled off the jodhpurs.  He briefly considered getting up to find his pajamas. But Sips grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down into the blankets.

“Enjoy not worrying about being crushed in your sleep for one night,” Sips chuckled in the dark. The blinds were shut and the room was nearly pitch black. 

“Am I safe with you around?” Trott grinned as they pressed close even though they had the whole enormous bed to themselves. Sips cupped Trott’s ass with a hand, laughing quietly.

“Depends on your idea of safe.” He pressed his lips to Trott’s throat, kissing him until he moaned and dug his nails into Sips’ back. 

“This alright, or you want to sleep?” Sips asked. Trott curled his arm around Sips’ neck.

“Fucking do it already,” Trott hissed. “If you stop now...”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Sips pushed a leg between his thighs and continued kissing him, his teeth scraping Trott’s skin enough to make him shiver. He pinned Trott’s wrists to the mattress, and rolled on top of him.

Beneath him, Trott made a sound half amusement and half frustration. He pushed his hips up against Sips, grinding into him. It was easier in the dark to be needy, with just the two of them in the darkness and no need to explain anything. The bourbon gave him a little background buzz, enough to cut through the weariness from earlier. Trott twisted one hand free and reached between them to stroke Sips’ cock. 

“Someone’s randy,” he whispered, grinning so hard it hurt his cheeks.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Sips grunted, shifting to the side. He pulled Trott’s leg over his hip. Their cocks bumped against each other.

“For fuck’s sake, just-” Trott’s voice cut off in a deep breath as Sips squeezed his ass again, harder this time. 

“Just what?” Sips asked, his voice right in Trott’s ear. He casually nipped at Trott’s ear, knowing it would make him writhe and press closer.

“Just touch me,” Trott groaned, his voice low. He twisted his arm, angling so he could hold both their cocks together.

“I am touching you.”

“Touch me more.”

“How?”

Trott moaned as Sips rubbed his fingers down the curve of his ass to where they just brushed against his balls. He tried to shift his leg higher on Sips’ hip.

“Do you mean here?” Sips teased, bringing his fingers back up between his buttocks.

“Sips,” Trott groaned. 

“Hang on a second,” whispered Sips. He rolled away just enough to grope blindly for the bedside table, hoping someone had been lazy enough to leave the lube in easy reach. His hand closed on the familiar bottle, and he flipped the cap open. 

“This what you wanted?” Sips rolled back and slid slick fingers against Trott’s ass. 

“Yes,” Trott panted. He pressed himself close again, his leg over Sips to give him easier access. Trott stroked their cocks together, trying to hold them both in one hand. 

Sips’ fingers rubbed over his hole, and he pushed one in quickly enough to make Trott gasp. His hand closed convulsively over the heads of their cocks, squeezing tight. Sips bit down on his neck again, feeling Trott tense around him. Slowly, he started to move his finger, pressing into the tight muscle. 

“Fuck,” Trott moaned, his voice muffled. Sips leaned over him, propped on one elbow.

“There you go, relax, I got you.” Sips pressed his finger a little deeper, and curled it just slightly. Trott made a short strangled noise, and pushed his hips down. 

“You like that, eh?” whispered Sips, his voice amused and soft. “I can do it some more.” When Trott gasped something that sounded encouraging, Sips began to move inside him again. Trott let go of his own cock and began to stroke Sips more earnestly. He twisted his hand, slicking his fingers in the fluid dripping from the head of Sips’ cock. Above him, Sips’ breath was shallow and quick.

“Shit, Trott, I’m close if you-”

“Well fucking come on then,” Trott laughed, a bit breathless. His own cock ached, wanting attention. 

“Oh, I’ll come on you alright,” Sips threatened. He leaned his head down to put his mouth on Trott’s shoulder, his breath hot. His hips pushed into Trott’s strokes, speeding up their hasty rhythm. Sips crooked his fingers again, amused by the way it made Trott’s grip falter momentarily. But he slid his fingers back up to that tender spot on the underside of his cock and Sips moaned long and loud. Come dripped between Trott’s fingers, splashing into his thigh. 

Without pause, Sips pushed Trott onto his back. He carefully pulled his finger out of Trott, and maneuvered to kneel between his thighs. He ran a hand through the sticky mess of come and wrapped it around Trott’s cock.

“Sips,” Trott gasped.

“Shut up for a second,” Sips replied. He pressed two fingers into Trott, enjoying the sound it provoked. Still flush and tingling from his own orgasm, Sips needed a couple moments to coordinate his hands. 

“Oh fuck, yes, fucking yes-” Trott tossed his head from side to side, his hips moving faster. Sips’ fingers inside him made him jerk and hold his breath. Pleasure made him feel dizzy, the icy hot feeling coiling at the base of his spine. Shivering, Trott felt the tiny spasm that signaled the end. He came with a wordless moan, arching up into Sips’ hands. 

Trott laid there in a hazy, inarticulate bliss. He barely even made a sound when Sips pulled out of him and shifted off the bed. He did startle when a towel landed on him, breaking his dreamy reverie.

“You are a mess,” Sips observed from somewhere in the dark. Trott cracked open his eyes, trying to place him in the gloom. The faint light from behind the blinds didn’t do much to illuminate the room. 

“Says the guy who came on my leg,” he retorted, making a half hearted attempt to wipe the drying semen off his skin.

“You did ask me to,” Sips said dryly. Trott tossed the towel in the direction of his voice. “Oh damn it Trott, really. I was just about done.”

Trott smirked, and flopped back down with a deep sigh of satisfaction. He felt the mattress dip slightly as Sips climbed back into bed. He lit a cigarette, and the tiny flame cast quick orange shadows on his face. Trott watched him lean back against the headboard, and shifted around so his head rested on Sips’ thigh. They were quiet, while Sips smoked. He stroked a hand over Trott’s bare shoulder, thumb tracing aimless lines across his skin.

“This was always my favorite part,” Sips said quietly. Half asleep, Trott rubbed his hand over Sips’ leg.

“What part?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred. Sips tilted his head back and exhaled.

“Afterwards,” Sips clarified. “Half the time in a car, parked out somewhere we couldn’t get caught. Winter, summer, even if it was raining. Crack the window, light a cigarette.”

Trott hummed. He tried to imagine a very young Sips, with some boy or girl in the backseat of a big car. He smiled, yawning. Sips rubbed the back of his neck, and stubbed out the cigarette in his ashtray. It was a Christmas gift from Ross, a heavy thing of greenish glass he’d found in some junk shop somewhere in the city. Apparently was a tourist tchotchke from some place called Magnetic Hill, and in some improbable coincidence Sips had been there once. He found it hilarious, and kept it beside the bed for his late night cigarette.

Sips nudged him gently, and Trott rolled away to bury his face in a pillow. He felt weary right down to his bones, but in a good, satisfied way. Something in him was settled and content for a change. Trott wanted to savor the feeling, but drifted quickly into sleep. The last thing he remembered was Sips pressing a kiss into the nape of his neck, and the blanket settling over his back.


End file.
